


Peculiarities

by deductress



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Captain, Autistic Captain (Ghosts 2019), M/M, Sensory Processing Disorder, The Captain needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27454456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deductress/pseuds/deductress
Summary: From the moment of waking up, the Captain instinctively knew it was going to be a challenging day; one of those days. One of those days where everything felt both intensely overwhelming and blearily muted - an excruciatingly exhausting combination to have to manage ordinarily, never mind while commanding an army base at the brink of a world war.
Relationships: The Captain/Lieutenant Havers (Ghosts TV 2019)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 121





	1. The Captain

From the moment of waking up, the Captain instinctively knew it was going to be a challenging day; one of _those_ days. One of those days where everything felt both intensely overwhelming and blearily muted - an excruciatingly exhausting combination to have to manage ordinarily, never mind while commanding an army base at the brink of a world war.

Unable to gather the required motivation that would compel him towards climbing out of his bed - despite being perfectly aware it was nearing time for his typical morning patrol - the Captain rolled over dragging the thin military-issue duvet up and over his head protectively. He supposed he could allow himself one rare moment of vulnerability, as he created a cotton cocoon for him to dwell within for a few short moments of reprieve.

He felt tired, shattered if he were being truly honest. However the increasing urgency of his duties mounting up prevented him from achieving any form of relaxation, instead his body held stiff and uncomfortable as he lay on his side. He silently endeavoured to mentally build the strength and resolve required to attend to his duties, but as yet, was unsuccessful.

After a further five minutes had passed with the Captain debating whether he could feign illness for the day, a sharp knock at the door halted all his considerations. He knew he ought to call out – ask who was seeking him, and what they required, but any energy to follow through with said action was frankly absent. Grimacing, the Captain attempted to push himself to a seated position, but was immediately defeated by the blinding sunlight slipping between the cracks of his shutters. As his head throbbed in reaction, he became agonizingly aware of the building barrage of voices echoing from all around the base – his skin prickling unpleasantly as his senses started to clash against each other.

Irrespective, the Captain knew he had to attend to his duties. He was the base commanding officer, it made not a single bit of difference if he felt fatigued or unwell – he had soldiers to train; they relied on him to prepare them for something they could all scarcely imagine. War was horrible, it was unthinkable and devastating. War was something the Captain was intimately familiar with sadly. His weakness today was irrelevant in the face of it all.

A second abrupt knock cut off his self-berating and yet he still found himself unable to push through the painful drag on his senses and call out to his visitor.

Dearly hoping the soldier would tire of waiting for a response and move on – likely presuming him to have already vacated his quarters for his dawn patrol – the Captain instead found himself jolting involuntarily up as the door quietly opened, admitting his guest before closing swiftly behind them.

He silently confessed he was extremely relieved to see who it was that had entered his quarters; the one person who would be least likely to ridicule him in his current condition.

“Lieutenant Havers, I-” the Captain’s voice cracked on his exclamation, he correctively cleared his throat as he hurriedly flattened his mussed hair down and ensured the duvet covered him sufficiently in his partially undressed state; undershirt and underwear only. It was unseemly to be seen without his uniform on after all.

The Lieutenant frowned in concern, his querying voice soft and forgiving, “Sir? Are you not well?”

Lieutenant Havers remained consistently kind when around the Captain, unlike many of the other soldiers who seemed quite eager to take their Captain down a peg or two whenever the opportunity would arise. The Captain had never been a likeable character; he was well aware of this and had lived his life building walls between others and himself in an act of self-defence against their criticizing words. Unfortunately it still hurt each time someone mocked him behind his back, ridiculing his manner and his ways. Havers, however, always seemed to have a soft smile or a kind word for him. A charming change.

“Quite well Lieutenant, I must apologise for my tardiness -” the Captain stated, forcing an air of authority as he rather haphazardly attempted to pull himself together; fighting against the strain on his senses and the exhaustion dragging at his bones.

An unexpected gentle hand clasping his shoulder caused him to haltingly flinch away from the sensation, as an apologetic Lieutenant Havers stepped closer, “Please sir, I can see you’re not well. Maybe it best you take a day to yourself?”

Wishing he could allow himself a day of rest, the Captain shook his head firmly as he reached for his uniform shirt, “No thank you Lieutenant. I should attend to my duties and see to the men. I’m perfectly fit for the day-”

Abruptly, the thunderous sound of machine gun fire echoed throughout the mansion - the deafening metallic gun shots ricocheting repeatedly, crudely playing with the acoustics provided by the historic manor.

Reactively clamping his hands over his ears, the Captain physically recoiled from the auditory attack - hunching over himself defensively and shutting his eyes tight knowing any visual input would likely lead to a full-blown overload.

When a pair of hands wrapped around his own, the Captain shuddered violently at the unanticipated skin contact, but felt a sense of appreciation upon realising the sound of the stop-start gunfire had dulled considerably to a more manageable level.

Time warped dizzily as the muted gunfire lingered on, as if the soldiers down below were well aware of the Captain’s current state and were eager to prolong his suffering. When the shots eventually came to a halt, the Captain cautiously squinted his eyes back open, raising his head to realise the Lieutenant was now seated on the mattress beside him, almost intimately close. An expression of open worry covered the Lieutenant’s face, but when the pair made eye contact, Havers allowed his hands to loosen from their hold and free the Captain’s own.

“That looked very painful for you,” Havers asked worriedly, haltingly adding a quick ‘sir’ to the end of his statement.

“Yes-yes, it can be rather,” the Captain admitted in a sudden moment of weakness, a bone-deep weariness settling over him as he acknowledged he would likely be unable to see to his obligations on this day.

“Is it-do you have a headache?” the Lieutenant softly queried, though his tone was already disbelieving.

“It’s… Something similar I’m sure,” the Captain agreed, reluctant to describe his unnameable affliction to the other.

As a child, he’d regularly been overcome by loud noises, bright lights or crowded rooms. He’d often struggle against his father while he forced him to eat foods that his sense of taste viciously disagreed with. The other kids would laugh at him when he flinched away from their touches, and instead reached for the comfort of a blanket or soft toy. His mother had kindly called them his little “fits”, said he just felt things a lot more strongly than the other kids did. His father had been less patient, smacking him any time he rocked in his seat, or hummed without a tune. Sneering that he would not be seen with an imbecile for a son.

Years under his father’s “care” had rid him of his worst tendencies; now he was quite able to function normally and work through any stress on his senses or the overpowering compression against his mind and thoughts. He had taught himself many avoidance and defensive techniques – such as the importance of maintaining a neutral facial expression, irrespective of how his senses suffered. If one didn’t know he were repulsed by the food set in front of him, one would not scorn him. Or, more particularly, how to manage and identify human body language – if the Captain upheld a meter distance from others, generally they reciprocated. This allowed for him to avoid unwelcome touches. He had honed his techniques over several decades of practice and had perfected his coping mechanisms for whenever his senses were, on the rare occasion these days, defeated. He had considerable practice of hiding and managing his eccentricities from the Great War, but he hadn’t been in a command role at that time. Had simply been a nameless private, a child barely become a man thrown into a world war. His overloads had been more easily forgiven, and concluded as a result of shellshock. He wasn’t sure the men he commanded presently would be quite so magnanimous.

From the questioning frown the Lieutenant wore, it was evident he doubted the Captain’s assurance of having a _something similar_ to a headache. The pretence was exhausting, as always, but such was life.

Dully, he realised he would need to come up with a more credible explanation for his “fit” – should the Lieutenant worry he not be capable of command and request his removal from his position.

Suppressing the desire to shut himself off and hum until the pressure prickling under his skin ebbed, the Captain reached out and grasped his crop – allowing his hands to wring it repeatedly. An action he had learned was seen as socially acceptable and was generally unnoticed by his soldiers, “I should be fit for duty shortly Lieutenant, I just need…”

Trailing off the Captain found himself without words to describe what he required in that moment, to allow him to regain his appearance of normality.

The minutes ticked by silently before the Lieutenant seemed to come to some kind of decision as he visibly straightened his posture, likely steeling himself to scold the Captain for his appallingly unprofessional conduct.

“Sir, I would like to- please allow me to support you,” Havers requested, his tone genuine and eyes determined, “I’ve seen you… struggle before, like this. I want to help. You shouldn’t have to suffer in silence, one should not merely keep calm and carry on sir. Not when someone… _I_ can help.”

Flummoxed, the Captain stared openly at the Lieutenant – uncomprehending of why he would want to help. Surely he should be put off by the Captain’s earlier episode? The Captain had expected derision and disgust, not understanding.

“I don’t-There isn’t-You wouldn’t-” cutting off his stuttering in frustration, the Captain grit his teeth and sped up the repetitive wringing of his hands – aware of the building embarrassment tinging his cheeks red. His peculiarities were starting to show, if he didn’t calm himself soon he would shock the Lieutenant so much he would likely end up with a one way ticket to the asylum.

“Sir,” Haver’s voice cut through the Captain’s impeding panic, “What can I do to help make it all more bearable for you?”

It seemed the Lieutenant would never stop surprising the Captain. As he regarded the perceptive soldier before him, the Captain felt his resolve crumble – the foundations toppling under the weight of his exhaustion, and the need to act out to balance the over-stimulation rippling through his being.

“Would you-? No-no of course not,” the Captain berated himself before his request could be voiced, his shoulders hunching as he pulled his crop protectively closer to his body. It felt like he was losing his tenuous grasp on his control, he needed an anchor to keep him grounded but felt too ashamed to appeal for such.

In another staggering show of perception, Havers leaned towards the Captain ducking his head to be level with his superior’s as he softly enquired, “Sir, if it’s not too forward of me… may I, may I hold you?”

Mouth open on a silent gasp, the Captain felt himself lost for words as the Lieutenant offered the one thing he was desperately searching for. Quickly collecting himself, the Captain nodded, clearing his throat as he hoped not to look too eager, “Yes, yes that-would be… quite acceptable Lieutenant.”

Smiling gently, the Lieutenant reached forward and wrapped his arms around the Captain allowing the Captain to naturally curl himself towards the sensation as his forehead rested against the Lieutenant’s shoulder. The Lieutenant’s hold was steady but soft, and with it an uncomfortable shudder run through the Captain’s body in response.

“Is this suitable sir?” Havers queried, evidently feeling the Captain’s shudder.

“If-If it’s not too much of an inconvenience… Could you… A little firmer please, light touches aren’t-” cutting himself off, the Captain huffed quietly as he averted his gaze and felt his cheeks grow warm, “They don’t feel very pleasant, I mean to say.”

The Lieutenant immediately firmed his grasp around the Captain, the sudden pressure causing the Captain to sigh in immeasurable relief as the world seemed to instantaneously stop its spinning on its axis and he felt himself begin to centre once more.

The Captain allowed himself a few silent moments of reprieve, the deep pressure against his skin and muscles soothing him as he felt his mind slow, his senses dimming pleasantly as the rippling under his skin receded.

“Do you find that comforting sir? To feel the fabric of my uniform?”

The non sequitur caught the Captain off-guard, as he dragged himself to full awareness and was mortified to realise he’d been unconsciously weaving his fingers through the folds on the back of Lieutenant’s jacket, the coarse fabric rubbing pleasingly against his fingertips.

Jerking his hands away in embarrassment, the Captain moved to pull away from the hug, his face aflame as a stone sat heavy in his stomach – guilty and ashamed, “I must apologise for my abhorrent behaviour-”

“You have nothing to apologise for, nor feel embarrassed about,” the Lieutenant interjected decisively, firming his hold which prevented the Captain from pulling away entirely and elicited a shudder to flow through his body in appreciation of the pressure.

“Sir, I’ve seen how certain textures influence your mood; how some bother you and others calm you. I know how gripping your crop helps steady you and how you hate having to wear your suede gloves. How you love the taste of honey and hate the sound of sandpaper. I know… you,” the Lieutenant concluded, trailing off hesitantly at the end, as if he had suddenly lost all the confidence he had started his statement with.

“And I _hope_ , that you would let me learn more about you. You as a person, not as a soldier.”

Stunned into silence at the Lieutenant’s, _William’s_ , declaration, the Captain felt himself overcome with shyness – like he were a little boy again, complimented by his grandmother for his skills in caring for the flowers in the garden. He shyly lowered his gaze as he considered his response. He’d always been taught by his father that one should never reveal their weaknesses to another, that they should never allow another to know them personally for the chance they may use that knowledge against him. His father had crafted him into a fine soldier. It had also made him into a very lonely man.

Swallowing pensively, the Captain allowed himself to slowly curl against William once more – returning his head to the man’s shoulder as his fingers resumed their twining of the material of William’s coat. After a moment he warily allowed his lips to press against the other’s man jacket, sighing contently at the soothing sensation.

The Captain had never been a man good with words, action had always been his first choice and he dearly hoped his actions now echoed his response to William’s invitation, loud and clear.

The tender kiss to the crown of his head reassured him that William had indeed understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is something really a fandom to me if I don't write an autistic!Character-I-Adore-and-Relate-With fanfiction?  
> So yeah, here it is.
> 
> Second chapter will be from Lieutenant Haver's POV. Forever fond and patient with his dear Captain.  
> I have other fics in the making also, but... Autistic AU's are kinda a rite of passage for me, so this came first.
> 
> My current stim toy of choice is a little plushie I got commissioned of the Captain, I call him Cap-Cap and I adore him to absolute bits. I'm planning to get a Havers commissioned too, so Cap-Cap won't be lonely.
> 
> As always, comments appreciated but please be gentle.


	2. Lieutenant Havers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the machine gunfire had begun, the Lieutenant himself startling at the abrupt sound – he couldn’t miss the pain etching itself deep on to the Captain’s face, as he covered his ears, shut his eyes and curled over himself in a defensive manner. Without even a moment’s consideration, the Lieutenant had reached out and covered the Captain’s hands with his own.

When the Captain had not arrived for his 0600 hours dawn patrol, the Lieutenant had felt a great wave of unease and concern roll over him. It was not like the Captain to be late, instead he tended to be, not always but typically, excessively early – claiming that time waited for no man.

As the minutes dragged past the hour and moved closer to the quarter marker, the Lieutenant had decided immediate action would be required. Referring to second Lieutenant Jones, he instructed he lead the men through ammunitions practice – stating that the Captain was likely battling against the mountain of paperwork sent in recently by Headquarters. Informing Lt. Jones that he would be in temporary command for the morning, Havers explained he would join the Captain in hopes of defeating the administrative burden by lunchtime and as such they were to be left alone to fulfil their dismal task.

Lieutenant Jones had laughed aloud, smiling widely, “Better you than me sir! I’ll see to it the men are kept busy,” he promised.

Confident the second Lieutenant would keep the men sufficiently challenged, and distracted, Havers had made his way swiftly to the Captain’s quarters. When his knocking had been left unanswered, he had taken a deep fortifying breath and entered the room without his superior’s permission – taken aback to see the Captain still dressed in his night clothes, skin pale and expression pained as he jolted upright at his entrance.

The Captain had been swift to apologise for his absence, despite his evident suffering and had done his darnedest to maintain his pretence of command irrespective of the Lieutenant’s request he rest for the day.

When the machine gunfire had begun, the Lieutenant himself startling at the abrupt sound – he couldn’t miss the pain etching itself deep on to the Captain’s face, as he covered his ears, shut his eyes and curled over himself in a defensive manner. As if the very sound itself was beating him down like the bare fists of many men. Without even a moment’s consideration, the Lieutenant had reached out and covered the Captain’s hands with his own, hoping to strengthen the sound barrier so as to lessen the Captain’s pain.

And now here they sat, the Captain’s cheeks rosy red with embarrassment as they each allowed their hands to drop to their respective laps, “That looked very painful for you,” William stated – his concern deepening at the grimacing confirmation the Captain offered in response – quickly tacking on a “sir” so as to maintain their gradually eroding pretence of professionalism.

The Lieutenant had observed similar expressions of exhaustion on the Captain’s face in the past, usually at the end of an intensive training day; when the men were tired, but loud and rowdy in their excitement for an evening off – looking forward to visiting the local dancehall and mingling with the town’s ladies. It had always been evident to the Lieutenant, that the Captain severely disliked anything overtly loud – often seen grumbling about the boisterous activities of the men on a weekend off. Equally, the Captain seemed to do his best to preserve his personal space; building invisible boundaries, that when breached caused him to lash out irritably. Not unlike an animal, threatened by someone entering its territory.

During their time at Button House, William had watched his Captain with increasing interest – one he was fearfully reluctant to admit, to even himself. First he had grown a deep respect and admiration for his superior – inspired by his dedication to his duty and his endless determination to help mould their men into exemplary soldiers ready for battle. Then it had developed into a sort of fondness as he began to see beneath the Captain’s outer façade; charmed by the man’s natural bashfulness, his teasing wit and his delightful quirks. And then, on a day mundane as any other, the Lieutenant found himself roving his eyes up and down the Captain’s figure as he lectured the seated soldiers before him – his heart beating faster as attraction pulled him towards his superior. It was at that very point, that the Lieutenant realised he had developed romantic sentiments for the Captain, _his_ Captain.

Since then, the Lieutenant had taken significant notice of the Captain’s increasingly curious quirks – eager to ensure none of the men under their command observed them also, on the upsetting chance they would view said peculiarities as something possibly undesirable or disreputable.

Though, it seemed, the Captain had considerable practice at hiding his idiosyncrasies – at blending them in with normal actions, so as to be unremarkable from the Captain’s usual manner.

The way he would wring his hands around his crop was a common one – usually done when the Captain was anxious or uncertain. His hands would repeatedly twist the thin leather until order was restored once more. Conversely, if the Captain seemed in good spirits he could often be seen rocking or bouncing on his heels. The more bouncing, the more jovial the Captain seemed to be – the Lieutenant had fondly observed over time. He never could quite hide his doting smile when he was greeted by a bouncy Captain, the movement unconsciously punctuating his speech. True, the Captain’s instinctive actions tended to reveal considerably more about his feelings or his reaction to a particular situation than his words ever did.

In spite of everything the Lieutenant had affectionately witnessed and learned about his dear Captain, he knew with absolute certainty however - that the Captain would never acknowledge his quirks. If questioned, Havers was certain the Captain would shut down – deny all allegations, and likely repress (to his detriment) his habitual compulsions due to worry of judgement and societal ridicule.

Treading ever carefully, the Lieutenant gently queried if it was a headache afflicting the Captain – cautiously hoping the Captain may seek to open up, and reveal what he was truly struggling with.

Unfortunately, the Captain remained as reticent as always - the repetitive wringing of his crop the only vulnerability he seemed willing to allow himself.

When the Captain trailed off into a tired silence after promising his immediate service, the Lieutenant recognised he would need to be the one to take the first step. The Captain would never admit to any weaknesses, would never allow himself to appeal for aid for risk of being seen as an incapable leader. Havers needed to be the one to extend the olive branch, so to speak.

Visibly steeling himself, the Lieutenant straightened his spine as he delivered his next statement, “Sir, I would like to- please allow me to support you. I’ve seen you… struggle before, like this. I want to help. You shouldn’t have to suffer in silence, one should not merely keep calm and carry on sir. Not when someone… I can help.”

The Captain’s stunned silence was evidence enough he had expected reproach, not support. Havers couldn’t help feeling a little bit of his heart wilt at the idea the Captain expected rebuke and dismissal, even from him. His superior’s subsequent stuttering and flustered denials, cheeks a charming ruby red as his hands increased the speed of their wringing gave the Lieutenant the answer he was seeking.

“Sir, what can I do to help make it all more bearable for you?”

It seemed the Lieutenant’s blunt request had finally broken through the Captain’s formidable barriers, as the man in question silently regarded the Lieutenant. A moment later, the Captain’s posture folded as he curled into himself protectively – his precious crop held closer as if worried his one comfort may be taken from him. William recognised the defensive position for what it was – even with all his peculiarities that made him so unique, William could still see a man desperately wishing for a hug, but stubbornly unwilling to ask or allow himself one.

Knowing it was, again, up to him to make the first move; William extended the second olive branch, “Sir, if it’s not too forward of me… may I, may I hold you?”

“Yes, yes that-would be… quite acceptable Lieutenant.”

Greatly relieved to hear the Captain’s reserved consent, the Lieutenant allowed himself to wrap his arms carefully around the other – conscious any wrong move could result in the other bolting like a deer in the night. Upon feeling the Captain’s head move to rest against his shoulder, his heart fluttered pleasantly – a sensation of _rightness_ flowing through him at the action. They fit well together, the Lieutenant reflected.

As the man in his arms was suddenly wracked by a full-body shudder, Havers immediately worried his private thoughts had been somehow heard by the other, “Is this suitable sir?”

“If-If it’s not too much of an inconvenience… Could you… A little firmer please, light touches aren’t-” the Captain cut himself off, tone ashamed as he admitted, “They don’t feel very pleasant, I mean to say.”

_His embrace was causing the Captain pain?_

The horrifying thought prompted the Lieutenant to firm his hold around the other, arms tightening against his superior’s back anxiously. He knew the Captain had always been adverse to human contact, but had never comprehended the reason was due to it causing him literal pain. Had his clasping of his hands around the Captain’s earlier pained him? The very idea of mistreating the Captain in any manner caused William to wince instinctively, his grip further tightening in response as if he could protect the other from such potential hurt.

Mercifully, the tension leeched from the Captain’s body at the Lieutenant’s tautened embrace – his shoulders sagging as he allowed his weight to lean against William’s, a great sigh of relief releasing from his form. Another quirk to note – light touches triggered pain while deep pressure instead seemed to result in rarely-seen relaxation. The Captain finally allowing his characteristic straight-backed posture to loosen.

The minutes passed by pleasantly, the pair comfortable in both their embrace and their silence. William felt himself lulled by the weight of the other, felt his natural protective instincts calm at the sensation of the other held against him. When he felt the Captain’s fingers lightly brushing and winding around the fabric of his coat, a blossoming warmth spread through him. The Captain’s endearing idiosyncrasies continued to enchant him; grateful the Captain was finally willing to openly share them with him.

“Do you find that comforting sir? To feel the fabric of my uniform?”

Unfortunately the casually-posed question had an unintended reaction as the Captain bodily jerked away, his hands ripped from the Lieutenant’s jacket as if caught in the middle of a crime. Humiliation coated his tone as he stiltedly apologised. Thankfully for him, William was unwilling to let the Captain return to his reserved ways when he knew his comfort was still dearly sought after by the other. Flexing his hold around the Captain, he felt quiet satisfaction at the ripple of pleasure that ran through the Captain in response. (William was admittedly rather delighted to be singularly privy to the Captain’s response to firm pressure – now knowing how best to calm and sooth the Captain in future situations if required. The Captain had shared a secret with him, one he’d plainly kept hidden for many years – William would ensure to treasure the knowledge granted to him.)

Accepting they could only move forward if they were entirely honest with each other, the Lieutenant allowed a short steadying breath in before admitting his observations to his superior – fear of rejection looming closer as each word passed his lips, before admitting his desire for them to become something more: “And I hope, that you would let me learn more about you. You as a person, not as a soldier.”

The Captain’s subsequent silence set the Lieutenant on edge, _had he asked for too much?_

Before he could contemplate what he’d do if the Captain rebuffed his romantic overtures, he felt the man allow himself to fall into the Lieutenant’s embrace once more. His head returning to its previous position against William’s shoulder and his fingers curling into the fabric at the back of his coat. A moment later, William felt the Captain’s lips come to rest against his chest, pressed firmly against the coarse material of his uniform. While he’d much rather those lips rested against his own, he knew the Captain had taken a great leap and was disclosing a part of himself he’d never allowed another to see.

Delivering a tender kiss against the Captain’s silvering hair, William breathed the other in – content to lose himself to this moment and forget all else.

Without any conscious thought, the Lieutenant found himself lightly humming ‘ _In The Mood_ ’ as his hand stroked firmly up and down the Captain’s back – soothing both the man he loved and bringing a sense of peace to himself, as the touch consolidated his understanding that the Captain was safe in his arms; protected from the judgemental eyes of the world.

“Is this okay?” he felt best to ask.

“Yes, it’s…. nice,” the Captain admitted shyly, softly, “Don’t stop please,” as he spoke his lips brushed against William’s jacket – his dark lashes fluttering attractively with his lowered timid gaze.

Happy to continue, William carried on with his humming, hand resuming its comforting strokes as he rested his chin atop the Captain’s head. As time drew on, he felt his eyelids lower to a close as he slipped into a light doze, a sensation of completion consuming him.

When enough time had passed that the Lieutenant knew the soldiers would soon be asking questions about where their commanding officers were at (administrative work could only keep you busy so long), he reluctantly pulled back from the embrace – not missing the quickly shuttered look of disappointment that crossed the Captain’s face as they parted.

“Do you feel any better? Or are things still…” he hesitated over how to verbalise the Captain’s condition, “ _Too much_?”

William held up a silencing hand when the Captain opened his mouth - attempting to affect a flippant countenance, “Be honest, sir. I don’t wish to see you suffer any more than you have. The men will survive without you for the day, I’m sure I can keep them plenty busy with drills.”

The Captain’s fingers lightly brushed against the end of the Lieutenant’s sleeve, a mindless action as the Captain’s gaze lowered demurely. Affection pulled at the Lieutenant’s heart as he watched the charming display.

“No-no, I think it best I… Rest, just for today mind you,” the Captain reluctantly conceded, “Usually I’m… better, the day after.”

“Good, take the day to yourself sir. I’ll ensure the men keep quiet for the remainder of the day.”

The Captain’s bashfully grateful gaze prompted the Lieutenant to get to his feet, moving to leave the man’s quarters – knowing if he didn’t leave then, he might not leave for the rest of the day – before pausing with his hand outstretched towards the handle.

“William?” the Captain queried softly, unaware of how his use of the Lieutenant’s first name sent a pleasant shiver down the soldier’s spine.

Appreciating how much comfort the item of clothing had brought to the Captain, William removed his outer coat – unbuttoning and unbuckling it swiftly before gently passing it to the man seated on the bed.

“Oh, I can’t!” the Captain declined hastily, “It’s not proper-”

“I’d like you to have it, sir. Just for today. I will admit, I like the idea that even if I’m not with you, a part of me can still keep you safe and at peace.”

The Captain seemed to consider his words for a few silent moments before nodding shortly, cheeks blushing sweetly.

William smiled kindly in response as the Captain slowly accepted the coat – his fingers automatically winding into the fabric as he brought it to his lips, pressing them delicately against the fabric, “Thank you,” he whispered, voice heartfelt.

“I’ll return at dinner sir, if that’s acceptable? I know dinner in bed isn’t quite proper, but I’m sure we can forgive it one time, yes?” the Lieutenant nodded shortly, before turning to take his leave – halfway out the door as the Captain’s voice stopped him in his tracks, heart thumping at the sound of the other’s gravelly tone.

“I say Havers,” the Captain called, before flashing a coy smile – the quirk of his lips causing his moustache to tilt charmingly, “I shall look forward to seeing you later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not so sure about this chapter actually, feel it may be OOC? Would appreciate feedback, I can adjust if so.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter came about thanks to Wheels - your inspiring CapHavers and autistic!Cap headcanons really get the creative juices flowing! XD
> 
> I'm considering writing other possible autistic!Cap fics, but my next one with be a short CapHavers PWP! (For those eagerly awaiting some fun times for our lovely soldiers~)
> 
> As always, comments are greatly appreciated, it always brings a smile to my face to read them. <3


End file.
